Some Middle Place
by Beautiful Wednesday
Summary: Malak is dead but so, in many ways, is she. Plagued by guilt and betrayal, she must make peace with her past if she is to survive, if anyone is to survive. KOTOR: LSF Revan/Carth
1. Prologue: Escape from the Star Forge

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Prologue:

Escape from the Star Forge

The Ebon Hawk screamed away from the destroyed Star Forge, debris battering her hull mercilessly. Inside, her crew desperately held on against the wild jerking and shuddering of the ship and the continuous onslaught of her dangerously roiling contents. Huddled in the medbay, Carth braced himself—his feet pressed to the bulkhead and his back jammed against the bunk—desperately shielding the unconscious Jedi in his arms from the falling implements and supplies around them.

Her eyes remained closed and her body oddly still amidst the chaos. She had not stirred since Carth carried her from the bridge of the dying Star Forge, where he found her collapsed mere paces from Malak's lifeless body. Jolee's angry shouts unheeded, Carth had battled through the decaying ship searching for her. Finding her pinned under smoldering rubble, her body broken,—bleeding and barely breathing—had stopped his heart. The pilot again tamped down the rising panic he was becoming frighteningly familiar with and instead focused all his energy on keeping her as secure and safe as possible amidst the current tumult.

"Tell me again why we're up here flying this bird when we got ourselves a perfectly good pilot?" Canderous roared furiously from the cockpit as Zalbaar growled in agreement. "This seems like an inconvenient moment for napping!" The Mandalorian continued, frantically wrestling for control of the careening ship. Mission whirled on him in agitation.

"All that braggin' on how Mandalorians are the best damn this and the best damn that and now you gotta drive for five minutes and you're not up to it? 'Oh Carth, it's too hard. Oh, Carth, come hold my hand, you big, strong pilot!'" She chucked a bit of broken circuitry at the back of his head to punctuate her taunts. "If flyin' this heap of scrap is so hard then shut up and _PAY ATTENTION!_" She screamed, grabbing frantically for the nearest steady surface as a permasteel girder crashed into their starboard shield. Zalbaar howled in concern as an unsecured crate tumbled into Mission. "It's alright, Big Guy, it'll take more than Carth's box of beauty treatments to take me out!" She teased but her arm hung at an odd angle and the Twi'lek could not mask the pain coursing through her. Zalbaar keened again. "You just keep doing what you're doing, Zalbaar, and you'll help me just fine."

"How is she?" Juhani's softly lilting voice cut though the pandemonium; Carth risked a glance up to see her perched between the bunk and an emptied storage alcove. In the turmoil, he had not heard her approach. Dark blood stained the Cathar's tunic and hands. Some of it was her own. "Carth?"

"She's…fine. She'll be fine." He spoke more for himself than Juhani.

"Of course." She murmured reassuringly, "May I?" She swung herself around the bunk and braced herself beside him with a grace he usually would have wondered at. Not this day. At his small nod, she shifted slightly to free one of her hands and laid it tentatively on the unconscious Jedi's shoulder. Her eyes drifted closed as she centered herself, blocking out the shouts of the rest of the crew, ignoring Carth's hopeful gaze and focused only on her prone friend:

_Battle. Blue light spilling over empty faces. Horror. Pain. Regret._

_Acceptance._

Juhani exhaled swiftly.

"She is with us yet." She intoned gently, "But she is waiting."

"Waiting for what?" Carth demanded.

"I think…the end."

"No," he choked, "No! Stay with me, please…" The fear broke loose and his eyes filled with angry tears. "Don't you dare leave me like this …" He buried his face in her hair as grief wrenched agonizing sobs from his body.

"Carth," Juhani touched his back as tentatively as the jerking ship would allow; he did not look up. Her voice sharpened as she demanded his attention: "You must listen, Carth! I think she will not die, that is not what I mean to say. The end she waits for did not come: _you _did." The stricken pilot raised his head. "She expected death, knew it came for her and accepted it. But you were faster. She does not wake because she does not yet _know_ she has anything to wake _to_."

"She's…she's not…" Relief flooded his features.

"She is not dying. Not today. As I say, she does not know this _now_ but she will. Her injuries will heal, in time. Speak to her, hold her. Eventually, she will hear." Juhani smiled tiredly, "And perhaps do not tell her of what is become of the Ebon Hawk." She winked in a moment of uncharacteristic levity as she ducked to avoid a projectile that looked suspiciously like part of the hyperdrive. "I am thinking this would not please her. Though, perhaps, she would return to us more quickly if only to punish the Mandalorian for his carelessness with her ship." The Cathar's dig at Canderous rang loudly but sounded empty of the rancor with which she usually regarded the man.

"Or me, for letting the fool fly her." A wry grimace crossed his face; Carth knew he should have been the one at the helm but still found himself unable to leave her side.

"Perhaps."

* * *


	2. Chapter One: At the End

Note: All of Malak's dialogue is quoted directly from the game and remains the intellectual property of Bioware.

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Chapter One:

At the End

"This is your last chance, Malak. Surrender." Even as she spoke the words, she knew the dark Jedi before her would not yield. She longed to see him return to the light and the thought of facing him in battle filled her with dread but if he must be destroyed, then it was only fitting that she do it. After all, she had led him to this path: she could ask no other to face him.

Lost in regret, she did not register his reply but there was no mistaking the bloodlust in his eyes or the menacing thrum of his activated lightsaber. His crimson blade crashed and screamed against her own sabers, her twin violet blades barely deflecting the brutal onslaught. The throaty buzz of his prosthetic vocal cords as he laughed and growled irritated her even more than the fact that he matched her, blow for blow.

Finally striking a powerful hit, she froze as Malak merely crowed with mirth. The breach in her defenses did not go unnoticed by him and she hunched forward in agony even before she saw the flash of electricity around her.

"You continue to amaze me, Revan. If only you had been the one to uncover the true power of the Star Forge, you might have become truly invincible. But you were a fool. All you saw was an enormous factory, all you ever imagined was an infinite fleet rolling forth to crush the Republic. You were blind, Revan—blind and stupid!" Malak gloated.

"Is there some point to this?" She ground out, unable to mask the tremor of her voice or her hands as the current passed from her body. Part of her warned against giving in to her frustration and growing exhaustion, regretting the bite to her response even as it left her lips.

He continued, drawing her attention for the first time to the bodies suspended around them, She recoiled in horror. Even before he finished his explanation, she knew: this was why she made so little progress in the battle against him, why his stamina so far outstripped her own and even more than she needed to undermine his power base, she needed to give the Jedi--all these familiar faces bathed in cold, blue light—the release they deserved. She reached out, past the oily darkness of the Star Forge, past Malak's malicious anger and brushed against the life-force of the nearest Jedi, a young man whose name she could not remember but with whom she had sparred, had laughed. _May the Force be with you_, her thoughts touched what remained of him as she let the lightsaber fly. A wave of peace flooded her as he crumbled in a shower of sparks and smoke.

Malak roared, lunging for her but she was already gone, dashing toward his next victim with an unexpected burst of speed. She barely heard his pounding footfalls behind her, all that mattered was returning the slain Jedi to the Force; in her single-minded purpose there was no room for anger or grief, no space for self or fear: she was centered and sure. As she released the crowd of sentients from the endless half-life Malak and his Star Forge had devised for them, she felt the darkness weaken and her own fatigue ebb.

She made her final stand before the smoldering remains of the last stasis-cell, snatching her spinning lightsaber from the air as she whirled to again clash blades with Malak. Beyond the viewing portal, the Republic ships fired mercilessly at the Star Forge. She could feel it crumbling around them; each blow carved away at the remaining power of both Malak and his dark ship.

She knew her own reserves would not last much longer. _It may not be much,_ she reminded herself, _But it is strength enough to finish this_. Her final strike sent Malak to his knees.

"Im… Impossible. I… I cannot be beaten. I am the Dark Lord of the Sith." Malak felt the blood seeping between his fingers despite his stunned rejection that she had defeated him.

"This is the way of the dark side, Malak: all things end in death."

Beneath the screech of twisting metal and the thunder of the Republic's munitions against the hull, Malak heard her speak softly and the sadness of her voice touched something in him he had thought long dead. Something like remorse. She watched it flicker across his face as he replied more thoughtfully than she had expected.

"… I… I cannot help but wonder, Revan. What would have happened had our positions been reversed? What if fate had decreed I would be captured by the Jedi? Could I have returned to the light, as you did?" He coughed with the effort of his words and flecks of dark blood stained his mouth, his metal jaw. "If you had not led me down the dark path in the first place, what destiny would I have found?"

"I am sorry I started you on the path." She whispered hoarsely, guilt thickening her voice, "But you chose to continue down it."

"I suppose… I suppose you speak the truth. I alone must accept responsibility for my fate. I wanted to be Master of the Sith and ruler of the galaxy. But that destiny was not mine, Revan." Death rattled in his lungs. "It might have been yours, perhaps… but never mine. And in the end, as the darkness takes me, I am nothing."

And then it was done.

She looked over the shell of him one last time before she left, regret and hope coursing through her. She sheathed her weapons and jogged to the door.

Great tiles and panels crashed as a support beam gave way behind her, knocking her to the floor in the avalanche of debris. The weary Jedi struggled against the crushing weight: her hands grew slick with the blood pooling beneath her body. She could not free herself; she had spent the last of her energy defeating Malak to save the Republic and had none left to save herself. The sounds of the battle and the ship dying around her began to dim.

Pinned beneath the malignant scraps of the Star Forge, she despaired. The Council had built her for this fight, designed her carefully and well; why sacrifice a true innocent if the darkness could be rebuilt to terminate itself?

She remembered the blow of Malak's words on the Leviathan. The choking disbelief even as Bastila had confirmed them.

She _had_ been an innocent until then. The truth had destroyed the creature she had been as certainly as any blade, as certainly as Malak and the Council had destroyed Revan. And now that she was finished with her mission, the galaxy was finished with her. It seemed both fitting and still very unfair to her increasingly clouded mind.

_Carth. _She searched through the chaos for his familiar warmth, longing to touch him once more, and when she found him, she felt him running. The thought that he would make it out, that he would live on, warmed her heart against the chill spreading sluggishly through her veins. _Go. Be safe, _she urged. _I am sorry, Carth, that I cannot follow: the battle they built me for has killed me twice._

_

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	3. Chapter Two: Reunion

Chapter Two:

Reunion

A haze of common noises surrounded her, gradually drawing her from the shadows where she had remained, waiting on death. She had embraced the darkness as an escape from the agonizing screams of the collapsing Star Forge but these sounds were different; these were _vital_. Metal clanked and buzzed amidst growled Mando'an curses. Footfalls came and went, following unknown paths and drawing her closer to the surface with each passing. And through it all, she felt the low drone of conversation seeping into her mind like the warm oceans of Nubia until her head was so filled that she found herself floating up toward consciousness.

Understanding returned to her slowly. Even as her mind resisted, her body woke to her surroundings: the cool, smooth surface beneath her cheek, the heavy weight of the blanket pressing her hips and stomach down against the firm pad beneath her. Chilly air prickling against the exposed skin of her back.

She wondered idly what had become of her robes but was too tired to worry over it much. Death would not care how she was dressed. Or if she was dressed.

Her growing awareness considered the state of her own body a moment too long and the barriers keeping the pain at bay crumbled and failed.

Agony screamed through her.

Her mind scrambled back from the inferno. Everything hurt and she desperately retreated into the darkness, Warm hands on her back stopped her before she burrowed too deeply. Gentle fingers smoothed a balm across the fire in her flesh, tracing inscrutable patterns on her skin like ancient glyphs. As the pain diminished, it left space for her to process the sensations she experienced: the deep ache in her body, the weakness of her limbs, the cool relief wherever those hands paused. And a voice, speaking to her.

This was neither death, nor was it the Force.

"…I did ask Juhani to do it first, but she just told me where I could stick…" Her attention drifted from his voice back to his hands. _Carth._ Here and solid and touching her. Stronger than any pain, something warm and grateful unfurled in her chest, overwhelming her. _Carth._

"…I didn't mean it like that! It's not that I didn't want to see you naked, you're a beautiful woman and I'm…a man…" he stammered awkwardly, embarrassed at the corner he had talked his way into. "I just that I'd, well…this wasn't what I had in mind." He trailed off and a rush of tenderness swept through her at the guilt filling his voice. His hands continued to work, deftly treating and bandaging a scorching wound along her side that she did not remember sustaining and she wanted so badly to touch him, to reach out and offer him the same solace he covered her with. But her limbs were so heavy…

Carth let his hands still as he applied the last bandage to the ugly blaster graze. His eyes swept over the deepening purple bruises running from her right shoulder down to her left hip and he worried that perhaps she suffered from internal injuries that Jolee and Juhani had missed. It wasn't that he didn't trust his Jedi companions,—well, no more than he didn't trust anyone—it was that she had been unconscious so long. Three days.

_You in there, Beautiful? _ Carth tore himself away and crossed the distance back to the medbay counter in two easy strides, assessing the assortment of medpacks and gauze accumulated there. Clearing the used bandages and spent canisters into the waste, Carth pulled a small basin from the cabinet and filled it with cool water. Grabbing a clean cloth, he returned to the bunk and swept her thick hair aside. Carth knew that the intermittent fever was part of the healing process and but he also remembered how she had hated Tatooine, hated the oppressive heat and the endless sand. His fingers brushed against her exposed neck, the barest of caresses, as he pressed the wet cloth to her flushed skin.

If she dreamt, he would have it be of somewhere she loved, somewhere safe, and not of the deserts of Tatooine or the fires of the Star Forge.

Juhani and Jolee were not the only ones to feel his thoughts echoing through the Hawk. Carth's dark fearssharpened her will; she commanded her body to cooperate.

"C…Carth," she rasped, nearly inaudible over the clamor of Canderous' repairs. His heart in his throat, the pilot knelt beside the bed to search her face, fearing he had imaged her voice. Weary blue eyes peered back at him.

"Welcome back," he breathed reverentially, reaching for her only to pull back, afraid of reopening her barely closed wounds. He gingerly laid one hand on the crown of her head and rested his other atop her wrist instead.

"Far," she frowned.

"Yeah," he grinned, "We're all plenty far enough away from that damned ship now." But she was shaking her head, "Not what you're talking about?" She shook her head again, "Okay. Far from what?" He asked, worried.

"You." A small smile curled the corners of her mouth as he leaned in a little closer.

"This alright?" Humor colored his voice. She frowned again. "Better?" Carth's nose brushed against her own as he came still nearer. Gathering her strength, she tilted her chin up and pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth, ignoring the sharp pain from her bruised face.

"Better," she murmured against his lips, kissing him again. Carth pulled back slightly.

"I don't want to hurt you," he traced the edge of the bruise around her mouth with his thumb.

"Hurts anyway," she managed to drag her arm away from the side of her body and moved it carefully along the cool sheets until she found Carth's forearm resting against the bed. He felt her fingers wrap around his wrist, her grip barely strong enough to maintain the contact. "Help me," she whispered.

"What's wrong?" Alarm rushed into Carth's voice as his eyes searched her body for the problem.

"Neck hurts. Up."

"This isn't a good idea," he muttered, aware that the flash in her eyes meant nothing he said would convince her to listen. She adjusted her free arm. "Can't you wait just a minute?"

Her glare answered for her. She let go of him and pressed her palms against the bed in a heart wrenching parody of a pushup.

"Stubborn woman!" He nearly shouted, immediately aware of the sudden quiet on the Ebon Hawk. "_Damn it. _Just let me help you, okay?" Taking advantage of her momentary stillness, he pulled the blanket up to the base of her shoulder blades and tucked it under her arms to better cover her. "This is going to hurt…" He warned and she nodded up at him, knowing he was right but determined to move. "I don't think your back can handle much right now. How about we just try sitting up for a minute?" Carth reluctantly proposed.

"Anything," she croaked back, her body aching with laying in one position so long.

"Then let's roll you onto your _other_ side; I just got finished re-bandaging this burn." He walked around to the opposite edge of the medbay bunk and she shifted slightly, turning her head to face him. Avoiding the more serious of her injuries, he gently pushed her up onto her less-damaged left side. Leaning so close to her that he was nearly laying beside her, Carth slid one hand between her body and the bed; she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on as best she could as his other hand moved to the bend of her knees.

Carth worried that her grasp on him was so weak as he lifted her upright, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. He slid her closer to the head of the bunk and the wall so she would have something to lean against.

"Better?" He finally looked at her, not surprised by what he saw but wishing he could have prevented it all the same; tears swam in her eyes. _Her back must be killing her_, he thought.

"Better." Resting her forehead against his, she inhaled deeply. "Thanks."

Letting go, Carth rocked back onto his heels, tentatively allowing her to sit under her own power. She wobbled but remained upright as she rearranged the blanket more modestly, pinning it closed with one shaking hand while she supported herself against the wall with the other. Despite her efforts, the edges of the blanket flared, revealing one pale knee and calf. His anger at her determination to get up—borne of his fear for her—dissipated as he studied her exposed skin: he had nearly lost her but now…now she sat before him, alive and willful as ever, despite her injuries. She caught him staring and grinned weakly.

"See…something…you like,…flyboy?" She managed, amused but winded.

"Everything," his voice betrayed him, catching on the knot growing in his throat. Carth pushed himself forward, kneeling at her feet as he pressed a kiss against the top of her thigh, his rough hands wrapped gently behind her knees.

She felt his tears against her skin before she saw the hitch of his shoulders. Tucking the blanket closed as snugly as her trembling fingers would allow, she dropped her hand to stroke his head.

"Love you," she whispered warmly, burying her fingers deeper into Carth's hair.

* * *

"Leave 'em be," Canderous' gruff voice caught Mission by surprise and she jumped guiltily away from the half-closed door to the medbay.

"But she's awake!" The adolescent started to cross her arms, mimicking the defiant twist of her lekku, only to remember too late that one was carefully cradled against her body in a sling. She huffed irritably, "It's not like the rest of us weren't worried too!" The Mandalorian stared at her impassively, unimpressed.

"You'll get your chance. Now, come on. I could use a hand—even if it is just one—with the hyperdrive; your oversized friend's not exactly a 'delicate touch' with the equipment." He laid a firm hand on the girl's uninjured shoulder, propelling her away from the medbay. He didn't need to stand at the door to know her intrusion would be ill-timed, to say the least. Carth was a lucky bastard—hells, they were _all_ lucky—and they deserved this moment to themselves.

"Dwee!" T3 shrieked as they headed back toward the engine room. Zalbaar roared and the little droid came rolling out, squealing indignantly.

"Slow down, little guy!" Mission called, "No matter what he's told you, Zalbaar's not actually going to use you for parts!" She laughed but T3 just continued beeping frantically.

"Doo-dwee! Doet-dwo-ooo!"

"Oh." Mission stopped, "You know what, Canderous? I just remembered: I can't help you with the hyperdrive. I'm supposed to be…washing my lekku today. It's way overdue, really. So, I'll see you!" She spun back toward the ramp but didn't get very far—Canderous grabbed her arm firmly and sniffed at her, teasingly.

"You're clean enough. Now, come on. You too, T3. Let's go see what's got our bucket of bolts all up in arms." He pushed Mission down the corridor, ignoring her protests.

* * *

She awoke much later with no memory of falling back to sleep. She remembered Carth's warm breath and wet tears against her legs, the feel of his unruly hair beneath her searching fingers, the grief and awe in his face at her murmured confession but after that, only the bitter cold of the sinister darkness from which she awoke.

"Hey there, soldier," her voice cracked dryly but did not hide the humor in her words as her eyes fell on her disheveled pilot lightly sleeping on the floor. His head thrown back, he leaned against the wall beside the medbay bunk, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his arm angled awkwardly so his open palm rested gently on the crown of her head.

"Hey, Beautiful," he rumbled, a sluggish, uneven smile dragging across his mouth. "Water?"

"Caffa?" She raised her eyebrows hopefully. Carth snorted and hauled himself off the floor stiffly.

"Not on your life." He paled at the thought that it nearly _had_ been, casting an anxious glance over her as if reassuring himself that the past twelve hours hadn't been a cruel dream.

"Want caffa," she muttered obstinately, still stretched out on her stomach, sending a wave of relief through him. He'd never been so pleased to argue with her over what he'd affectionately dubbed 'her morning stim'.

"And Mission wants to braid Zalbaar's hair. You'll both just have to live with disappointment." He returned to her bedside, perching a small bottle of water on a narrow shelf near her head. "You going to insist on sitting up again for this?" Her snort of derision merely supported what he already knew.

"Alright, alright already," Carth tossed back, eyeing her still-exposed back worriedly, concerned both that the flesh was not knitting back together as fast as he would have hoped and that so much movement might be slowing the process even further. Still, she would do what she wanted; he might as well help her and reduce the chances of her reopening wounds unnecessarily. "So, anything you can think of that would hurt less than last night?" He spoke quietly, knowing Mission had spent much of the night lurking in the hallway—at least, as much as she could with Canderous perpetually dragging her back to help rebuild the hyperdrive, which had withstood their tumultuous escape from the Star Forge remarkably well only to be, apparently, completely demolished by Zalbaar's attempts to patch it. Carth felt a rush of unexpected gratitude toward the gruff Mandalorian.

She nodded slightly in response to his query and beckoned him closer. He leaned in near but carefully avoided any contact with her damaged body. She pushed herself back onto her left side, cringing at the movement of the blanket against her burns and the increased pressure against her badly bruised hip.

"Here," she rasped, indicating with her eyes that she wanted him to slide his arm beneath her body in the small space she had made. Carth knew her body language so well from endless months of battling and living side-by-side that he easily interpreted her one-word instruction.

She gingerly lowered herself back onto her stomach, trapping Carth's arm beneath her and effectively pinning him to the bunk beside her.

"Too much?" He asked gently, concerned that she showed no further inclination to move. "I can go look for a straw…" He trailed off, certain there was no such utensil onboard but willing to make do with something requisitioned from the engine parts. But she shook her head.

"Shoes." The medpacs in her system were far stronger than those used in battle; they left her feeling fuzzy. Words took on a new significance to her in light of the great effort required to overcome the haze of the drugs and the burning fatigue in her body.

Carth gazed down at her in puzzlement.

"I don't think we need to involve shoes in this procedure just yet, Beautiful."

"You."

"I've already got shoes…"

"I know." An impish smile danced in her eyes, "Off."

"What? Ohh," He groaned, realizing she'd set him up. "The bunk is just too small, Beautiful." Carth cajoled, fearing to jostle her by freeing his trapped arm or by fully joining her in the narrow medbay bunk. He trailed his free hand tenderly down her neck. "Gonna let me up now?"

She shook her head petulantly and rested her cheek against the crook of his shoulder.

"Come on, love," he coaxed.

"Caffa?" She murmured coyly, resisting the urge to wince at the pain smiling caused.

"Um, no." The pilot replied firmly. "Caffa's about the last thing you need right now."

"Fine," she huffed, "_You_ stay," a note of desperation crept into her voice; if she couldn't have the caffa to help keep her awake, then she wanted Carth to help her sleep.

"I'm not going anywhere but I don't fit up here." Guilt contorted his features, and he waited a beat for her response. When she remained silent, he continued, his voice colored by the agony of the past days…weeks. "Don't make me do anything that just makes things worse, I couldn't take that. You understand?"

"Never worse with you," she slurred, her voice growing thick with exhaustion again. "Please stay," her lips whispered pleadingly against his skin, "Please."

"Alright, alright; I've always said you're the most stubborn woman I'd ever met." He spoke fondly as he awkwardly kicked off his boots and slid his legs onto the bunk against hers. "But what's going on in that head of yours, Beautiful?"

"Dark," she shuddered, "Cold…alone." Her eyelashes fluttered closed as the inexorable pull of her battle-wearied body overcame her.


End file.
